


Eccedentesiast

by aluinihi



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: 520 Day | Edward Elric/Roy Mustang Day, Alternate Universe, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Not Beta Read, Roy is early 20s, Similar Age AU, automail Roy Mustang, ed is 19
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 17:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18899452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aluinihi/pseuds/aluinihi
Summary: “If I tell you how I got mine,” Roy raised his automail, closing the metallic fingers in a tight fist, “would you tell me how you got yours?”





	Eccedentesiast

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY 520!!! I can't believe I made it lol
> 
> I was initially planning on posting an underdeveloped age swap AU, but maybe automail!Roy is less painful and cuter ;D
> 
> Just a heads up: English is not my native language!

Edward threw his whole weight onto the punch but Alphonse dodged it gracefully, grabbing his older brother by the metal wrist and twisting it to try and pull him down to the ground. The smaller blond struggled, barely managing to avoid the collision, and attempted to reach the younger with a kick to the ribcage. Alphonse had greater leverage though, he always had, and applied a similar move from before, this time holding Ed’s ankle. Having secured the volatile man underneath him on the floor, the younger Elric fisted the air in celebration.

“You win, I guess,” Edward panted, letting his limbs relax over the ground.

Alphonse stood up with his face splitting in a wide, victorious grin, and took Ed’s hand in his to help him up. “I always do.”

Someone applauded from the porch. Edward could already feel the irritation building up and getting stuck in his throat — he didn’t even need to turn to see who it was.

Roy Mustang — the Rockbell’s best client, according to Winry — sat on the staircase smiling playfully at the two sparring partners, clapping too slowly to praise and too fast to mock. He raised one brow at the glaring older brother, eyes shining with whatever bastard thoughts he was having at the moment.

“I hope you don’t mind me watching.”

“It’s fine!,” exclaimed Alphonse and the grin plastered to his face even seemed to grow.

Edward snarled, “As long as you’re not perving.”

“I’m afraid your definitions of ‘perving’ are a bit too wide-ranging,” said the man, “and they leave no margins for well-intentioned observations.”

The blond rolled his eyes, “Nothing about you is well-intentioned.”

“I beg to differ,” he stood up, walking back to the wooden door, “It is with the best of intentions that I admit how pleasurable it was to watch you spar.”

Ed squinted at him — _where is the catch?_ “Pleasurable, uh.”

Roy smiled. 

“In other words, I think you’re hot.”

“ _Who?_ ”

The man winked, “Both.”

Edward ran for him, leaving behind Alphonse with a face few shades darker.

  
  
  


Dealing with Mustang was not an easy job. Everything about him was either infuriating or — Edward cringed only at the thought — awfully charming. Ed wished to hate the bastard, for the uncalled flirting and the arrogance and his life as a soldier and whatever else. But truly, whenever he saw the man struggling to do the most mundane tasks, Edward’s chest tightened and his compassion made him forget he was looking at the fearsome Hero of Ishval.

Edward had a fair share of sins on his back too, after all.

Winry wanted him to stay close for at least the first two months of adaptation. Pinako rented him a room in the house for a special price, since he’d come all the way from Central to Risembool only to get an automail designed by the Rockbell’s. A recommendation from a friend apparently, even though he’d never mentioned who. And it didn’t really matter: he needed an arm and had the money for it.

During Mustang’s stay, Edward had been discreetly told by Pinako to help him through the initial struggles. Having gone through two surgeries himself, the blond had personal experience on how hard it was to relearn the most basic activities, such as moving your fingers and walking. Those that were once done automatically, that one suddenly discovers to be way harder than commonly believed.

Roy Mustang, however, was one hell of a proud asshole — and helping people who don’t want to be helped is a hellish type of impossible.

However, the reckless soldier boy seemed to want to _be helpful_. All the time. He was a great guest, or at least tried to be; polite and a good company — to anyone but Edward, sometimes even to Edward — doing all kinds of housework that could be done with a single functional arm. _What a shame I need two hands to cook,_ he’d said once, _I can bake a half decent pie thanks to my friend’s wife_. Nice? Yes. Cute? Perhaps. Edward still hated him though.

But there were moments, those that occur when one happens to have a person whom they only despise halfway through, those when they could sit and talk. About small things — the weather, or flowers, or childhood. Those when Roy would have crinkles on the corners of his eyes and Ed would keep twisting the end of his braid and laughing too, because they were fine for now. 

Mustang usually found a way to ruin it, though, cracking a joke or two at Ed’s height and Edward would be very tempted to smash his head against the wall .

“What are you thinking about? You shouldn’t frown so much.”

The blond’s head snapped towards the voice. Mustang stood by the kitchen’s entrance, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed, the new automail visible now thanks to short sleeves of his shirt. The machinery was pretty similar to Ed’s, but a bit larger to fit the man’s broader frame — and shinier, like any new thing should be. Without a smirk or arrogance or malice, he stared at Edward as if trying to predict what kind of environment Ed would be willing to create around them.

“And you shouldn’t go around giving your opinion when nobody asked for it.”

Then, the smirk. Mustang crossed the room to stand next to him by the counter, eyeing the mug in Ed’s hands with suspicion, “Are you really drinking coffee at _this hour?_ ”

“Can you please not make it sound like I’m committing a crime?” Edward rolled his eyes in annoyance, “What do I have to do to drink my coffee in peace? Holy shit.”

“It’s one in the morning.”

“Yeah, so? I want coffee, I drink coffee.”

“Tea is better, don’t you think? At least it wouldn’t leave you high on caffeine.”

“Caffeine doesn’t get you _high_ ,” said Ed, “And tea is disgusting! If you want it, go make your own.”

Mustang snorted, “This early in the morning and you’re already this aggressive... I must admit I’m impressed with your intensity.”

For a few a seconds, he tried to understand— 

"What the hell you mean with that?”

His first answer was just a lazily raised eyebrow.

“It’s not an insult, relax.”

_Not an insult_ doesn’t necessarily mean _compliment_ , but Edward still felt his cheeks burn. Roy looked away, staring out of the small window above the stove at the dark fields.

His expression was distant, the tilt to the head and the laid-back posture created… an image, so to speak. Mustang looked like one of those cliché characters from a romance novel, Edward could almost see him pulling a cigarette out of his pocket to smoke with an air of movie star. But he had bags under his eyes and lacked a limb, and Ed was certain that would disqualify him as the idealized male protagonist.

“Are you okay?”

It was only after he’d spoken, that he realized he shouldn’t have. The words had come out of his mouth like a puff of breath, honest and natural — but out there between them, they felt heavy and intruding. The soldier didn’t even flinch, though Ed did.

Roy sighed, “Within reason, yes.”

“You say lots of things that don’t really make sense.”

“What I mean is that I’m healthy, living in a house full of good people that treat me kindly, without any financial problem of sorts,” he said, “Reasonably, I am fine. But disregarding logic, I can’t say that.”

Edward nodded. It was somewhat understandable. _Relatable_ , if he squinted at the parts of his own subconscious that he didn’t really want to mess with. He tried desperately to come up with an answer — at least an acceptable commentary, something that went beyond _I’m sorry you have to go through this shit_ , but he realized that it probably didn’t exist.

When Roy turned to face him again, he wanted to say something. Not exactly to comfort, but to tie the man’s attention to him, to keep the course of the conversation flowing in that precise direction. Never mind if they had never crossed this path before — it felt cold in a way that promised warmth, and Edward wished he could have that. And Roy seemed to want it too.

“If I tell you how I got mine,” Roy raised his automail, closing the metallic fingers in a tight fist, “would you tell me how you got yours?”

Edward hesitated — as much as he longed to ask and get answers, was it worth giving answers when asked?

“Yes,” he said.

Mustang smiled — wary, but truthful, like a deer in the headlights that finds its fate rather fitting.

“A few days before the war was over, I was sent to empty a few buildings where people were supposedly hiding,” his eyes darted down, avoiding Ed’s face, “I went to check if there were any survivors, and there was—”

He stopped for a moment, closing his eyes tightly once, twice, before continuing:

“—this _kid_ , that… I didn’t realize was a kid and he had a gun, so I snapped,” and Roy mimicked the gesture, the sound of metal hitting against metal in a soft _clink_ , “It happened in seconds, the spark was there and growing and I realized it was just a child so I panicked.

“The only thing I wanted was to not hurt him so I tried to shift the direction, but I didn’t have enough time to think,” he ran his flesh hand over the plate on his forearm, “The flames went all the way up my arm and I barely had time to register before I passed out. When I woke up, I was at the infirmary and it wasn’t there anymore.”

Ed winced, shivering as he unwillingly imagined the pain the man must have been through — his brain surely couldn’t even get close to the real thing, since he was still very much conscious and only mildly disturbed by the other’s description. Roy himself appeared tranquil, as much as one could be after telling such type of story, looking at Edward expectantly. If he was waiting for an answer or Ed’s own tale, was still an unsolved mystery.

For the sake of not failing miserably at comforting, Ed picked the last.

“I did something really bad.”

Roy arched a brow, “We all do really bad things at some point.”

_War veteran,_ Edward reminded himself, trying to not think of all the _really bad things_ Roy had done two years ago.

“I know,” and it was now Ed’s turn to look away, “It was just— kind of a huge fuck up, I suppose. And I could get on serious legal trouble, there’s also that.”

“I promise I won’t use your past against you in any way, Edward,” he said, “but you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

The worst of it was how _genuine_ he sounded, and Ed could almost imagine a tomorrow where the other alchemist wouldn’t look down on him for his mistake.

“You told me yours, it’s only fair,” he shrugged, “My mom passed away when I was five from an epidemic, and I have been studying alchemy ever since I was four.”

“Oh.”

Yes. _Oh_. Ed hates and loves him for understanding so quickly.

“Anyway, it obviously didn’t work, and I lost two limbs in the process,” he continued, “Al found me covered in blood on the basement floor and asked for help, then Granny and Winry took care of me, and now here I am.”

After what felt like the most spat confession of his life, he raised his head to see Mustang’s reaction. The dark eyes ran over his face without judgment, maybe even a bit unseeing, as if Roy spotted something underneath Edward’s skin that he hadn’t paid much attention to before.

“How old were you?”

“Eleven.”

The man snorted and Edward blinked in disbelief.

“Makes sense.”

“I beg your fucking pardon?”

Roy let out a ridiculously attractive chuckle and Ed wanted to punch him. “It’s just that preteens— well, when we are kids we do have enough bravado to fight common sense with our bare hands.”

“Oh my god.”

“I’m so sorry,” he slapped a hand over his mouth, “I shouldn’t have—”

Edward took a very good look at his guilty, considerably paler face, then doubled over with laughter.

“H-holy shit, I was expecting _anything!_ ” A sharp intake of breath before he attempted to carry on between the sobbed giggles, “There were so many things you could’ve said and you choose _that_ , what the _fuck_ is wrong with you?”

Roy’s features relaxed as he realized his apprehension was unjustified, and he joined Ed. Soon enough, the room was filled with the sounds of their laughter; the mood shift was ridiculous, and that only added to Edward’s uncontrollable fit. He vaguely noticed how Roy’s eyes closed almost entirely when he smiled — or maybe not that vaguely, since his brain still managed to associate the fact with the word _adorable_.

Between stuttered exclamations, their flesh shoulders kept bumping — _bumping, bumping, bumping._

“We are opposites!” Ed observed.

“ _What?_ ”

“My automail is on the right, and yours is on the left,” he explained, “If we stand in front of each other it will be like a mirror.”

Roy snorted, “Except that I’m more handsome than you. And taller.”

“Why’d you have to go and kill the fun like this, you—”

He was interrupted by Roy moving swiftly, settling right in front of Ed and grabbing his wrists on each of his hands. Funny thing, but all the nerves Ed could swear had long been dead came to life again — and all that was left to him was to burn through both arms. Roy’s steel fingers clicked against the steel forearm like wind chimes under a summer a breeze, and Edward held his breath so as to not interrupt their melody.

Roy stared at their silvery limbs, the smile on his lips growing steadily, “Like a mirror.”

Edward, however, couldn’t take his eyes of their flesh. It was not. Holding hands. Something in his stomach dropped when he realized he had to remind himself of that, over and over, and how his brain seemed to not acknowledge that completely — it kept going back to the way Roy’s thumb rested against the heel of his palm, how warm is felt over Ed’s skin. He wondered if Roy could count his heartbeat as fear and anxiety made the hairs of nape stand on end.

“Like a mirror,” he whispered back.

It was with slow care that Ed slid his wrist free so he could turn Roy’s mockery of a hold into an actual one, slotting their fingers together and gripping tightly. He couldn’t know for sure what Roy wanted — as if he ever could, with the bastard’s ridiculous penchant for mysteries — but there were only so many options he could work with since Roy was the one who decided to corner him against the kitchen counter.

The soldier let out a soft sigh, and Edward refused to look at him — their hands, clasped together still, told him something, but what if Roy’s eyes told him another? _What if_ , what if he caught a glimpse of an impending rejection?

“Are you even sure of this?”

“You started it,” Ed said, “You didn’t really expect me to push you away, right?”

“I try to avoid expecting your reactions, as I more than often find myself mistaken.”

Ed smiled — he did have a few reasons to — and gave Roy’s hand a slight tug.

“So are you going to kiss me or wait until I give you a ‘ _no_ ’?”

A step and Roy was _right there_ where Ed wanted him, and his heart was beating too fast to his liking. It shouldn’t be like that, like Al’s and Winry’s stupid novels say it should — Ed could only take so much and Roy in and of himself already felt unreal sometimes, like a summer love gone a tiny bit wrong — but somehow it went exactly like make-believe. Roy’s lips shouldn’t be as soft as they were and his flesh hand shouldn’t be that warm against Ed’s cheek and, _god_ , Ed couldn’t remember ever being as annoyed at Mustang as when the man closed the distance between their chests and smiled within the kiss.

He was so, so annoyed he had to sigh and try to fit himself even closer; it felt ridiculous to wrap his flesh arm around Roy’s waist but there weren’t that many other options available. Their position had him twisting his neck upwards in an awkward angle, but it was _Roy_ and it felt like a foreign movie scene and he just couldn’t stop. Edward let the heat wash over him like waves, then let the cold of Roy’s automail hand pressed to his side pull him back to the shore again — he wasn’t drowning, he was _breathing_ , and it was good beyond description to feel the slide of Roy’s tongue against his.

But he was still _so annoyed_ , especially with how Roy smiled when the kiss was broken, watching him through heavy-lidded eyes and lips quivering ever so slightly.

“So,” Roy whispered, “where is my ‘no’?”

Edward raised a brow, and the floor underneath him didn’t seem solid enough. 

“You gotta wait a bit more for it first.”

As Edward’s breathing slowed down so did the world around them, and just like that they were the only existing creatures in the entire universe — _good_ , because Ed would probably die of embarrassment if anyone ever saw him like this.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was ok! Thank you very much for reading ❤️ 
> 
> [Tumblr](https://aluinihi.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/aluinihi)


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